Staring out the window of a taxi cab I see a blur of people and places I have to get to know. San Mateo county was going to be my area of work while Redwood will be my area of interest. The taxi driver smirked at the rising fair I had to pay. I imagined myself smashing his head into the dashboard before shaking my head and coming back to reality. The cab driver pulled over in front of a house that I already knew I would hate.
"You've got to be kidding me." Peeking out of the rim of my hangover shades the view made me sober.
"Bahaha afraid so Ma'am." His missing teeth only made his smile of satisfaction incredibly insulting.
What is up with everyone calling me Ma'am? The house was a distraction that made me over pay the already outrageously annoying cab driver. Stepping out and grabbing my bags from the trunk I stared at the atrocity. It was the first of four safe houses that my father left me. That man had a sick sense of humor. Pink with green trim surrounded by animal shaped foliage and pebble stone walkways. It was the dream house to a bitter old crazy cat lady now it was all mine. It was the nightmare to the me. Got to give him credit though, it wasn't the house a the county coroner would live in. I clicked my heels up the walkway and stuck the shiny new key into the lock, pushing open the door to view the inside
"Now what do we have here?" inside Barbies dreamhouse was a housewarming gift.
Laid amoung the floor was six clean piles of cash that was the height of the coffee table. Followed by a smaller present that was in the shape a springfield armory xd, serial number scratched off and a sticky note on the handle. The sticky note was written in my father's handwrinting, it was a phone number. I hate calling people, especially strangers. I wasn't good with the living, if I was I would be a regular doctor and not a coroner. It's not like my father gave me a choice of my future neither did my mother. I mean they named me Coro Lydia Nerr it's like if they named me Candi, I would have no choice but to become a stripper.
I'm not entirely sure if I would have stayed alive this long if they hadn't planned everything out for me. I should probably make that call and get it over with. Haven't even unpacked yet and I'm already working. Pulling out the pre paid cell phone from my bra made my stomach turn at the thought of talking to another person. The dial tone waited three buzzes it was always three buzzes before someone answered.
"Name." A monotone stoic voice passed through the speaker.
"Coro, Hal's daughter." Nervous and shaky I just wanted this to go quickly.
"I'm Greg. I will be your personal assistant. I'm already paid for. What can I do for you?"
"I'm afraid I have a bit of jet lag coming from the east coast. It is a difficult task, I hope you are up to the challenge." Hearing the word assistant made me feel at ease and in power.
"Of course." Greg was not much of a talker, I liked that.
"I need you to kill a John Doe, any will do. After you have killed him I want you to put him in Teller-Morrow automotive repair shop. It has to be during the day in about a week. I want it done right. No screw ups."
" Is that all, Coro?" His voice showed no hesitation, this was going to be a beautiful relationship.
"Where can I buy a motorcycle?" A plan was forming in my mind slowly and was making its way to the surface.
"Check the garage, its done." Now he was cramping my style.
"Goodbye Greg, its been a pleasure." The dial tone was all that I allowed to reply after that.
Furniture was already placed in the house, there were no boxes only suit cases and a lot of baggage. Firming my fingers around the handles of my bags I carried them down the hallway noticing all the photoshopped pictures along the way to the back bed room. Placing them on the queen bed I unzipped the only things in the house that were actually mine. Looking in them searching for the outfit that was going ot make my very first impression to the Original Sons of Anarchy.
Finding the perfect outfit I began to get dressed. Looking at myself in the mirror I saw many things none were pretty. High heels with black t-straps were help to make me taller, skinny jeans to show off the shape of my legs, black satin button-up top to show some cleavage, and the finishing touch was my leather jacket that had pin up skeleton sewn on the back. It was the perfect impression for the M.C. It was also the perfect impression to the man I knew I had to have as soon as I saw him, a decade ago. The only time I believed in love at first sight was with that tall, dark, and handsome man.
Clicking heels till I got to the garage filled with miscellaneous and suspicious items. A shiny sparkling distracted me from the weird variety of items that surrounded me, it was a gorgeous street glide touring motorcycle that latest model. I sat on the leather seat and grasped the handles getting a feel for the bike and it was a great feeling. Breathing in everything new and exhaling all the old. Opening my lashes which coated in mascara, I got off the bike and opened the garage door ready to ride. Sitting on the bike once again I found the keys already in my motorcycle turning it and hearing it purr. Grabbing the helmet that was next to the keys on the workshop table I placed the black helmet on my messy hair. I rode out of the pink monster and headed off to Teller-Morrow where I would need some new custom adjustments to my gorgeous bike.
There it was and by god, there he was Tig Trager. He will be mine.